G.W.  BURTON 


Ij. 


3V 


Beloved  California 


A  Lyric  of  the  Soul 


SECOND  THOUSAND 


BY 

G.  W.  BURTON 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A.  B.  DODGE 


LOS  ANGELES,   1914 


Copyright,  1914 

by 

G.  W.  BURTON 

as  the  "Eagle,"  in  the  Illustrated  Weekly  Magazine 
of  the  Los  Angeles  Times 


.     -         '.',',       ','   '.       •'          ".  r      ' 

'  ' 

•   '    •      '  •       '      '    - 


274415 


ILO V E  you,   California,  with  all    my   heart 
and  soul. 
I  love  your  every  beauty  spot.      I  love  you  as 

a  whole. 
I  love  you  as  a  mother  loves   her  little   new  born 

child. 
As    lovers    love  their  sweethearts   all,  so   gentle, 

sweet  ana  mild. 
I  love  the  breezes  from  your   seas   that  roll  upon 

your  shore, 

And  while   the   rolling  years   run  by  I  love  you 
more  and  more. 


I  love  your  plains  and  grass-clad  kills. 
Your  dells  and  vales  and  murmuring  rills. 
Your  meadows  daisy-pied  and   green. 
Your  orchards  bright  with  shimmering  sheen. 
The  golden  stores  within  your  rocks. 
And  all  your  sleek,  tat  kine  and   flocks. 


I    LOVE  you,  California,  with  affection 
deep  ana  strong. 

I  love  the  murmur  of  your  bees  and   all 
your  birds  of  song. 
Your   mesas   gleaming    in   the    sun,    painted 

with  poppy  gold. 
Your  sacred  ruins  on  the  lea  of  storied  days 

of  old, 
Their  cloisters  where  the   friars   brown   set 

up  the  blessed  Tree, 

And    taught  the   savage   from   the  wood  to 
Christ  to  bend  the  knee. 


m 


Yes,  every  -wooded  mountain  glade 
^A' here  lingering  lovers  walk  in  shade. 
And  every  snow-capped  towering  peak 
\Vliere  nature-lovers  interest  seek, 
^Vhere  breakers  roll  on  shining  sands, 
Vv^here  many  a  cloud-high  pine  tree  stands. 


I    LOVE  you,  California,  when  summer 
suns  glow  warm. 

And   when   the   rugged    oak  tree  bends 
before  the  driving  storm. 

I  love  you  when  your  cloudless  skies  spread 
comfort  o  er  the  plain. 

And  when    the    storm-chased    clouds  pour 
down  their  torrent  floods  amain. 

I    love    you  -when    the   sun    comes    up    o  er 
earth  s  high  eastern  wall. 

And  when  at  night  he  sinks  to  rest,  a  fire- 
consuming  ball. 

I  love  your  laughing  rivulets 

ere  nature  all  her  beauty  sets. 
Your  every  leafy  flower-decked  nook 
By  every  babbling  rock-bound  brook, 

something  sweet  from   every  sod 
Blooms  bright  as  Aaron  s  magic  rod. 


I  LOVE   you,   California,   in   sun 
shine  ana  in  shade. 

I  love  you  with  devotion  such  as 

man  may  love  a  maid, 
The  league-long  rollers  of  your  seas 

of  heavenly  sapphire-hlue. 
Your    far-flung    mountains    towering 

heights  in  tints  of  royal  hue. 
The    golden  glow   of   mustard    spread 

o  er  hillside,  plain  and  dell. 
The  goldenrod  that  crowns  the  streams 

that  through  your  valleys  swell. 


Anemones  in  spring  days  blow 
And  roses  rivaling  the  snow. 
And  poppies  like  a  butterfly 
O  er  many  a  league  of  landscape 

lie; 

Thus  rainbow  California   smiles 
Like    sorceress    spreading   magic 

wiles. 


I    LOVE  you,  California,  where  wheat  fields' 
rolling  gold 

Spread   far  and   wide  o  er   hill  and    plain.      I 

love  you  -when  the  fold 
\Vith    tinkling    hells   at    eventide    lulls    like    the 

peace  of  God  — 
i  he    peace    once   brought   to  our   dark  world  hy 

Jesse  s  glorious  Rod. 
I    love    you,    California,    -where     deserts     lonely 

spread 
Their  glistening  sands  beneath  our  feet  and  bright 

stars  overhead. 


O  -wondrous  land  of  the  Far 
Of  all  best  lands   the  very  best, 
\Vnere  following  seasons  come  and  go, 
\Vnere  men  may  reap  e  en  as  they  sow, 
In  confidence  and  peace.      I  say 
Fruit  follows  toil  as  day  does  day. 


ELOVED  California,  the   richness   of 

your  soils 

Assures     their    fruit     abundantly    to 
every  man  who  toils; 

No  plowman  turns  your  sod  in  vain  on  up 
land,  plain  or  vale ; 

In  all  the  good  land   of  the  \Vest  the  har 
vest  must  prevail. 
He  sows  in  hope  to  reap  in   joy,  as   sure   as 

day  is  day, 

As    in    the   garden  of  the  Lord,  as   the   old 
prophets  say. 

If  Paradise  was  half  as  rich — 
They  laud  that  garden  overmuch 
Lost  by  old  Adam's  greed — 
1  hen  Adam  s  fault  was  great  indeed. 
For  California  thou  are  worth 
To  me  more  than  all  else   of  earth. 


I    LOVE  you,  California,  with    love   as 
death  is  strong. 

The  glories  spread  o'er  many  a   page   in 

story  and  in  song. 
Poet  and  hard  thy  praises  sing,  prophets  and 

priests  relate 
Heroic  deeds  wrought  hy  the   sons  of   thee, 

loved  Golden  State. 
Thy  sunheams  make  the  blood  run  red   and 

pulses  raster  heat. 
And  all  the  blessings  from  the  skies  beneath 

thy  bright  suns  meet. 


Round  Zion  goodly  hills  may  stand. 
And  in  that  ancient  promised  land 
The  milk  and  honey  flowed  apace 
For  Gods  elected  favored  race; 
But  Golden  State,  God  cast  thy  lot 
In  full  as  rich  and  happy  a  spot. 


UNTO  thy  tills   I  lift  my    eyes,    my    well-beloved 
State. 

I  love  tnee  from  thy  snow-capped  peaks   unto   thy 
Golden  Gate, 
Tny  rills  and  purling  brooks  are  dear  unto   my   mind   and 

heart. 

That  from  my  soul  the  love  of  tnee  can  never  more  depart; 
MVnile  memory  rules  this  mind  of  mine    and   reason    holds 

its  sway, 
I'll  tell  thy  story,  sing  thy  praise,  in  bypath  and  Highway. 


But  on,  how  weak  is  all  the  praise 
Phrased  in  the  most  enchanting  ways 
To  tell  the  glories  that  are  thine; 
For  all  thy  beauties  far  outshine 
The  -warmest  words  of  human  tongue 
By  poet,  bard  or  minstrel  sung. 


THE  nebulous  streams  of  ligkt  tkat  flow- 
across       tke      nigkt- veiled,     star- 
gemmed  sky. 
Are  less  resplendent  than   tKe   dyes   tkat   on 

thy  fair  face  lie. 
The  sun  bends  low  at  morn  and  eve   to  kiss 

tkat  radiant  face. 
And  wonders  at  tke  matckless  charms  wkick 

wrap  tkee  witk  suck  grace. 
Tke   winds   tkat  sweep  tky  cloudless   skies 

caress  tky  tresses  krigkt. 

And  all  tky  seas  roll  at  tky  feet  to  wonder 
at  tke  sigkt. 

Clotked  in  suck  wondrous  loveliness 

Ak,  wko  could  ever  love  tkee  less? 

I  love  tkee  from  tky  Silver  Gate 

To  wkere  grand  Skasta  sits  in  state, 

By  all  tky  rivers,  krooks  and  rills. 

By  all  tky  flower-strewn  plains  and  kills. 


WHERE       wood -decked 
mountains  rear  their  heads 
And     streams    flow    deep 
o  er  sandy  beds. 
From  fir-clad  land  of  Oregon 
To  where  thy  southern  limits  run. 
The  realm  once    owned   by  ancient 

Spain 
Closes  once  more  thy  broad  domain. 

I  love  thee,  California.    Ok,  I  have 

loved  thee  long. 
And  told  thy    love   so   many  times 

in  warmest  speech,  and  song. 
And  when  I  come  to  love  thee  less 
Tnen  earth,  shall  lack   all  loveli- 


HOW  IT  CAME  TO  PASS 


Sunlight    mornings,    starlit    evenings,    so    they    pass    away. 
Man  is  ever  weary,  weary  waiting  for  the  May. 

Excepting  in  California,  where  from  January  to  June  nearly  every  clay  is  May-like, 
and  then  nearly  every  day  to  January  again  is  June-like. 

The  few  little  verses  that  precede  this  post-face  were  written  one  beautiful  day  in 
January,  1914,  when  the  air  was  as  warm  as  a  May  day,  the  plains  as  green  as  Ireland 
in  June,  and  all  the  wild  flowers  struggling  to  express  themselves  in  a  thousand  colors 
all  over  upland  and  plain,  in  dell  and  mountain  canyon  throughout  all  California.  The 
writer's  being  was  thrilled  full  with  the  sunlight  and  his  memory  keen  with  all  that 
he  owed  to  his  beloved  California  as  he  drew  near  the  end  of  half  a  century  of  peaceful 
successful  life  in  a  region  the  richest  and  most  beautiful,  under  skies  the  brightest  and 
amid  airs  the  balmiest  in  the  wide,  wide  world. 

As  he  writes  these  words,  May  is  drawing  to  a  close,  and  on  the  following  week 
when  the  fourth  of  June  comes  it  will  be  exactly  forty-eight  years  since  he  packed  up 
his  small  belongings  by  the  shores  of  Lake  Michigan  in  Kenosha,  Wisconsin,  to  start 
on  his  pilgrimage  for  California,  an  exceedingly  sick  man  of  twenty-six  years,  almost 
without  hope  in  the  world.  Do  you  blame  him,  sympathetic  reader,  for  loving  Cali 
fornia,  where  now  at  the  age  of  almost  seventy-five  he  is  still  doing  a  full  day's  work 
every  day  in  the  week,  in  better  health  than  he  had  half  a  century  before,  young  as 
he  was?  And  do  you  blame  him  for  wanting  to  tell  what  California's  balmy  climate 
has  done  for  his  health  and  what  her  opportunities  have  done  to  make  him  independent 
of  the  world  in  his  old  age? 

That  is  his  only  (not  excuse  but)  good  reason  ior  desiring  to  spread  his  admiration 
of  California  before  the  eyes  of  as  many  readers  as  he  can  reach,  especially  those  in 
poor  health  threatened  with  worse,  and  above  all  before  the  eyes  of  young  people 
afflicted  with  any  kind  of  disease,  threatened  with  premature  death  and  without  hope 
in  the  world,  that  they  may  know  that  there  is  here  a  "land  of  pure  delight"  where 
hope  springs  eternal  even  in  the  breasts  of  invalids,  that  health  may  be  recovered  with 
a  useful  life  and  success  to  be  achieved  to  those  who  will  only  hear  the  message  and 
come  in  time. 

With  these  aspirations  in  mind,  the  author  went  before  a  gathering  of  the  Realty 
Board,  a  body  of  men  larger  in  numbers  and  more  successful  in  their  calling  than  could 
be  found  anywhere  else  in  any  similar  city  in  the  world,  and  read  his  simple  tribute 
to  the  State  that  did  so  much  for  him,  and  they  advised  the  publication  of  the  verses 
with  the  story  he  told  them  of  its  writing.  The  story  follows: 

There  is  gathered  here  a  large  number  of  business  men  of  the  city  whom  I  am 
\lery  proud  to  have  greet  me  as  a  friend  and  to  profess  themselves  my  friends.  Friend 
ship,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  greatest  asset  in  life  a  man  can  have  outside  of  his  own 
personality. 

These  reminiscences,  being  personal  and  touching  the  speaker,  they  would  require 
the  personal  pronoun  in  the  first  person,  a  big  "I,"  six  feet  two  tall,  broad-shouldered, 
bold-faced,  with  a  very  small  dot  at  the  top.  Therefore,  to  avoid  the  use  of  this  per 
sonal  pronoun,  a  thing  so  disagreeable  to  a  modest  man,  it  would  be  well  to  provide 
a  substitute  for  the  big  "I."  Let  the  speaker,  therefore,  refer  to  himself  as  "the  in 
valid,"  for  his  invalidism  is  what  brought  him  to  California. 

Nearly  fifty  years  ago  the  invalid  was  a  teacher  in  a  Wisconsin  college,  and  after 
an  attack  of  typhoid  fever,  from  being  an  all-around  college  athlete  he  was  left  a 
physical  wreck.  A  consultation  was  held  on  his  case  by  three  doctors  who  sat  over 
him  like  three  crows  watching  the  movements  of  a  dying  mule,  and  after  auscultating 


his  lungs,  punching  his  ribs,  feeling  his  pulse  and  inspecting  his  tongue,  they  came  to 
the  conclusion  expressed  about  like  this  :\  "Get  out  of  here.  You  can't  live  two  more 
years  in  Wisconsin,  probably  not  one.  Go  to  California,  and  we  will  promise  you  an 
extension  of  your  life  possibly  six  years."  The  invalid  promised  to  go  if  he  could 
beg  or  borrow  $300  to  take  him,  but  remarked  that  he  would  not  die  in  six  years  nor 
in  twenty-six. 

His  case  was  tragic  in  its  sadness.  With  the  prospect  of  death  unless  he  went  to 
California,  without  money  enough  to  reach  New  York,  he  betook  himself  to  the  music- 
room  and  there  told  the  decision  to  a  lady  who  was  teaching  music,  French  and 
Italian  in  the  college.  She  said:  "I  will  lend  you  the  money."  But  the  invalid  re 
marked:  "Perhaps  you'll  never  get  it  back.  Perhaps  I  may  forget  you  and  the 
money."  And  the  lady  replied:  "The  loss  of  your  friendship  would  be  great,  that  of 
the  money  little."  So  the  invalid  said  to  the  lady,  "Will  you  go  with  me?" 

On  the  fourth  day  of  June,  1866.  the  two  were  married,  and  as  the  invalid  said: 
"With  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee  endow."  a  twinkle  glistened  in  his  eye  at  the  thought 
of  the  borrowed  money  to  take  him  to  California. 

In  due  time  the  ships  and  the  Panama  Railroad  landed  the  invalid  and  the  lady  in 
the  Golden  State.  He  taught  school  all  the  way  from  Los  Angeles  to  Portland  for  a 
period  of  more  than  ten  years.  The  audience  is  a  gathering  of  real  estate  people,  and 
it  may  interest  them  to  know  that  one  of  his  first  acts  was  to  save  his  salary  and  secure 
a  piece  of  California  real  estate.  This  was  ten  acres  of  land  at  Redwood  City,  in  the 
county  of  Sarr  Mateo,  for  which  he  paid  $1000.  A  year  later  he  disposed  of  this  and 
went  to  Fair  Oaks,  three  miles  farther  south,  where  he  purchased  ten  acres  of  beauti 
ful  park-like  land,  studded  with  magnificent  oaks,  for  $1750. 

The  invalid  and  the  lady  had  eastern  friends  in  the  city  of  Los  Angeles,  and  these 
wrote,  holding  out  glowing  prospects  for  a  private  school  of  high  grade  here  in  this 
city.  The  invalid  could  not  forget  in  a  thousand  years  this  first  visit  to  Southern  Cali 
fornia.  After  landing  at  Timm's  Point,  mounting  one  of  John  M.  Griffith's  stage 
coaches,  with  old  John  Reynolds  holding  the  ribbons,  the  race  with  the  Banning  stage 
from  Wilmington  began,  and  with  the  four  horses  in  the  sixteen-mile  race  it  was 
"ventre  a  terre"  every  rod  of  the  road.  Between  San  Pedro  and  about  Washington 
and  San  Pedro  street  corner  in  Los  Angeles  the  plains  that  March  day  were  covered 
with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  grass  a  couple  of  feet  high,  and  the  grass  was  covered  by 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  wild  geese.  They  would  scarcely  move  out  of  the 
way  of  the  horses'  feet,  and  when  the  invalid  got  off  his  box  by  the  driver  and  armed 
himself  with  a  peckful  of  clods  one  of  these  cast  into  the  flock/  of  geese  would  cause 
a  fluttering  of  wings,  and  when  the  birds  soared  over  the  stage  they  made  an  eclipse 
of  the  sun. 

Now,  to  the  real  estate  reminiscences.  The  invalid  in  1869  bought  from  Dr. 
W'illiam  Hammell,  the  excellent  father  of  the  very  excellent  Sheriff  of  Los  Angeles 
county  today,  a  regular  city  lot  120  feet  on  Spring  street  by  165  on  Fifth,  where  the 
old  buildings  are  now  being  cleared  off  to  erect  a  home  for  the  Citizens'  Bank.  The 
property  was  recently  secured  at  an  investment  of  $1,000,000,  and  the  building  is  to 
cost  another  million.  Oh,  friends,  that  is  not  the  only  time  the  invalid  just  missed 
being  a  millionaire. 

His  school  prospered,  and  one  evening  in  his  study  he  was  visited  by  a  committee 
of  three:  the  late  John  M.  Griffith,  the  late  John  G.  Nichols  and  the  late  Vincent 
Hoover.  Griffith  acted  as  spokesman.  He  presented  the  invalid  with  a  deed,  made 
and  executed  in  due  form,  conveying  to  him  for  a  "thank  you,"  the  title  to  a  forty-acre 
donation  lot  in  the  city  of  Los  Angeles.  This  lay  along  what  is  now  Figueroa  street, 
from  about  Fifth  to  Eighth,  and  stretching  away  back  over  the  hills  to  Lucas  or  \\it- 
mer  street.  The  gift  implied  that  the  invalid  would  remain  in  Los  Angeles  for  ten 
years  and  conduct  a  private  school  for  boys  and  girls.  He  thanked  the  committee, 
but  remarked  that  he  would  not  pledge  himself  to  stay  in  the  city  ten  years  if  they 
gave  him  the  whole  country. 


There  was  the  second  time  the  invalid  missed  ranking  as  a  millionaire.  The  price 
of  that  forty  acres  was  $1600.  John  G.  Xichols  was  the  seller,  and  in  view  of  the  pur 
poses  for  which  the  donation  was  being  made  be  abated  the  price  by  $200.  On  the 
advice  of  the  invalid  the  property  was  conveyed  to  trustees,  to  be  used  for  educational 
purposes.  The  further  fate  of  the  property  does  not  concern  us  at  this  time.  It  is 
values  we  are  considering. 

The  population  of  Los  Angeles  at  that  time  was  about  5000.  Probably  3000  of 
these  were  what  we  call  native  Californians  or  Mexicans,  1000  probably  represented 
various  nationalities  of  Europe,  and  about  1000  Americans.  As  the  speaker  remarked 
last  night  at  a  gathering  of  church  people,  there  were  nnore  persons  in  St.  Paul's  Pro- 
Cathedral  on  Sunday  morning  than  the  entire  American  population  of  Los  Angeles 
at  the  date  referred  to. 

With  a  population  of  500.000  the  corner  of  Spring  and  Fifth  streets  purchased  by 
the  invalid  for  $5000,  is  now  worth  a  million,  and  the  forty-acre  donation  lot  just  re 
ferred  to  is  worth  millions.  The  corner  of  Seventh  and  Figueroa,  now  a  part  of  the 
Foy  estate,  is  worth  more  for  one  foot  of  frontage  than  the  whole  forty  acres  cost 
when  offered  to  the  invalid. 

Well,  California  suns  and  breezes  from  limitless  seas  uncontaminated  as  the 
breath  of  heaven,  did  wonders  for  the  invalid,  and  by  the  time  he  had  been  in  this 
State  the  period  allotted  to  him  for  a  lifetime  he  had  become  pretty  sound  in  lung 
and  limb.  But  Southern  California  was  struck  with  the  longest  period  of  dry  weather 
ever  known  before  or  since.  Three  seasons  passed  with  so  little  rain  that  the  plains 
lay  covered  with  dead  animals  perishing  from  lack  of  food  and  water.  The  poor  cat 
tle,  forced  to  live  on  cactus,  had  tongues  like  a  pin-cushion,  full  of  the  last  spines  of 
the  cactus  that  could  stick  into  them.  When  they  waded  into  a  cienaga  to  get  a  drink 
they  were  too  weak  to  get  out.  The  invalid  had  made  money,  and  with  a  partner  had 
purchased  6000  to  7000  acres  of  the  Puente  Hills,  mortgaging  their  flock  of  sheep  as 
security  for  the  land.  The  flock  survived  a  second  dry  winter,  but  succumbed  the 
third,  sweeping  away  all  the  economies  of  the  invalid — the  land  reverting  to  the  orig 
inal  owner.  He  was  offered  a  place  in  a  school  in  Portland,  Or.,  and  was  obliged  to 
leave  the  lady  behind  and  borrow  money  again  to  make  his  journey.  He  fell  on  a 
soft  spot  up  in  Oregon,  and  soon  sent  for  the  lady  to  join  him,  and  there  they  invested 
again  in  Pacific  Coast  realty,  and  prospered  in  that. 

Eighteen  hundred  and  eighty  saw  the  invalid  back  in  Los  Angeles  county.  Ah, 
what  a  magnetic  attraction  there  is  about  this  land  of  the  heart's  desire,  so  beautiful, 
so  salubrious!  None  who  has  even  fallen  under  the  spell  of  that  charm  has  been  able 
to  go  away  and  stay  away  otherwise  than  through  compelling  necessities. 

This  time  the  invalid  took  a  big  jump  in  Los  Angeles  real  estate.  With  a  partner, 
he  purchased  the  Howard  ranch  at  San  Gabriel,  640  acres.  It  had  a  good  house  on 
it,  and  other  improvements,  ten  acres  of  bearing  vines,  several  acres  of  oranges  in 
full  bearing,  ditto  of  walnuts,  and  a  small  orchard  of  deciduous  fruits.  The  land  cost 
$25,000,  or  about  $40  an  acre.  Before  purchasing  it  the  invalid  had  visited  at  the  Occi 
dental  Hotel  in  San  Francisco  the  late  J.  DeBarth  Shorb,  who  offered  him  any  amount 
of  land  well  stocked  with  water,  at  $20  an  acre,  a  dollar  down  and  a  dollar  a  year  until 
paid  out.  The  interest  was  12  per  cent,  per  annum,  on  the  deferred  payments.  The 
Shorb  tract,  at  this  time,  includes  the  site  of  South  Pasadena,  and  stretches  down  to 
Shorb  and  Ramona  Acres.  The  Howard  ranch  is  worth  from  $1000  an  acre  to  $1000 
a  building  lot  today.  This  is  another  time  the  invalid  missed  being  a  millionaire.  For 
about  three  years  after  the  purchase  of  the  Howard  ranch  the  invalid  parted  with  his 
interest  in  it,  which  had  cost  about  $10,000,  for  $15,000  cash  and  mortgage,  the  mort 
gage  bearing  12  per  cent,  interest. 

With  the  cash  in  his  pocket  and  a  little  more  savings,  the  invalid  was  in  Los 
Angeles  one  day,  and  passing  the  office  of  A.  E.  Pomeroy,  with  us  here  this  morning, 
he  saw  on  his  board  an  advertisement  of  fifty  acres  at  Vernon  for  $6500.  The  real 
estate  man  took  the  invalid  in  his  buggy  down  Alameda  street  below  Washington, 
where  an  inspection  of  the  property  was  made,  and  a  bargain  struck  for  its  purchase. 


There  was  a  good  house  on  the  property,  and  with  it  went  a  team  of  horses,  a  wagon 
and  a  full  outfit  of  agricultural  implements.  Before  the  deed  passed,  these  accessories 
were  sold  for  $600.  and  the  property  rented  to  a  Chinese  gardener  for  $800  a  year. 
Pretty  good  interest  on  an  investment  of  $6000.  And  upon  the  first  day  of  every 
month  the  Chinaman  came  into  the  invalid's  office  and  counted  out  in  nickels,  dimes, 
quarters,  half-dollars  and  dollars  his  month's  rent.  Today  the  property  is  worth  from 
$100  a  foot  to  $10,000  a  lot.  And  once  more  the  invalid  missed  being  a  millionaire. 

He  traded  the  property  off  for  the  cprner  of  Franklin  and  N"ew  High  streets, 
where  the  Title  Insurance  and  Trust  Company  put  up  its  first  building.  This  piece 
was  traded  for  270  acres  in  the  San  Gabriel  Valley,  which  was  sold  a  short  time  after 
for  $27,500.  In  three  years  an  investment  of  $6000  had  grown  to  $27,500,  and  in  the 
four  years  the  invalid  had  been  back  in  Los  Angeles  his  $10,000  had  grown  to  $40,000. 
For  he  had  purchased  on  Bunker  Hill,  near  Second  street,  from  the  late  William  D. 
Stephens,  brother  of  former  Judge  Albert  M.,  a  house  and  lot  for  $1500,  the  house 
having  cost  $1800  to  build.  Lots  all  around  there  were  worth  $300  apiece,  and  the 
lady,  who  had  very  good  judgment,  urged  the  invalid  to  buy  some  of  them.  Instead 
of  taking  her  advice,  he  followed  his  own  superior  wisdom,  and  went  around  the  coun 
try  and  bought  up  barley  at  a  dollar  a  sack,  which  he  warehoused  for  a  year,  paid 
insurance  on  it,  and  then  sold  it  for  60  cents. 

The  lots  on  Bunker  Hill  avenue  referred  to  just  above  are  now,  at  the  end  of 
thirty  years,  worth  at  least  $12,000.  Population  is  the  foundation  of  realty  values, 
friends,  but  the  value  of  real  property  increases  more  than  in  the  ratio  of  the  increase 
of  population.  When  the  invalid  bought  that  property  on  Bunker  Hill  avenue,  house 
and  lot  for  $300  less  than  the 'house  had  cost,  the  population  of  Los  Angeles  was  about 
11,000. 

The  next  time  the  invalid  missed  being  a  millionaire  was  when  J.  R.  Scott,  an 
attorney  of  this  city,  urged  him  to  purchase  an  estate  which  had  come  into  his  hands 
to  settle.  It  was  that  of  a  worthy  German  citizen,  a  respected  friend  of  the  invalid, 
who  had  died,  and  the  widow  wished  to  sell  the  ranch.  It  has  escaped  the  memory  of 
the  speaker  what  the  acreage  was.  or  the  price  exactly,  but  the  ranch  of  that  day 
covered  the  area  of  the  city  of  Los  Angeles,  running  from  about  the  corner  of  Spring 
and  Seventh  streets  along  Seventh  street  to  somewhere  near  Grand  avenue,  and  ex 
tending  southward  beyond  Pico,  possibly  to  Washington  street.  The  price  could  -not 
have  been  more  than  $6000,  and  was  probably  less.  Remember  that  was  less  than 
thirty  years  ago,  and  today  the  speaker  is  informed  that  the  corner  of  Broadway  and 
Seventh,  across  from  Bullock's,  is  held  at  $15,000  a  front  foot,  or  more  for  a  single 
foot  frontage  twice  over  than  the  whole  tract  could  have  been  had  for  a  short  genera 
tion  ago. 

Here  was  perhaps  the  last  opportunity  that  came  right  into  the  hands  of  the  in 
valid  to  be  a  millionaire,  and  he  let  it  slip  out.  Friends  of  his  have  stayed  with  the 
real  estate  business  and  prospered  marvelously.  Many  of  them  are  here  in  this  room 
at  this  moment,  and  hundreds  of  them  belong  to  the  Realty  Board.  It  is  simply  a 
question  of  temperament,  friends.  When  one  of  you  puts  through  a  deal  and  banks 
a  check  for  $1000  for  his  commission,  he  thinks  he  has  done  something,  and  he  has. 
When  one  of  you  organizes  a  syndicate  and  carries  through  a  deal  that  involves  a 
million  or  so  he  thinks  he  has  done  something  very  great,  and  he  does  not  flatter 
himself. 

You  see,  it's  different  with  different  people.  There  is  our  friend,  your  excellent 
secretary.  Philip  Wilson,  once  an  associate  of  the  invalid  in  the  newspaper  profession, 
and  a  pen  artist  of  no  small  degree.  There  you  get  the  point  of  view  of  the  invalid. 
He  has  flattered  himself  with  the  idea  that  he  is  somewhat  of  a  pen  artist,  and  the 
community,  including  hundreds  of  members  of  the  Realty  Board,  have  encouraged 
him  to  hug  "this  flattering  unction  to  his  soul."  When  one  of  you  meets  him  and 
congratulates  him  on  the  beauty  of  an  article  reeled  off  at  the  end  of  his  pencil  or  the 
end  of  his  tongue  to  a  typewriter,  he  thinks  he  feels  as  you  feel  when  you  put  through 
a  big  real  estate  deal. 


The  other  day,  thinking  of  his  half-century  of  life  in  California  arid  what  its  balmy 
climate  had  done  for  his  health,  and  of  all  the  enjoyments  he  has  had  out  of  its  beauti 
ful  scenery  of  mountain  and  mesa,  plain  and  seashore,  an  inspiration  struck  his  soul, 
and  before  dinner  time  he  had  reeled  off  what  he  calls  "A  Lyric  of  the  Soul."  The 
invalid  begs  your  attention  while  he  reads  this  appreciation  of  the  beloved  State  which 
has  prolonged  his  life  so  marvelously. 

At  the  end  of  the  reading  the  speaker  said:  "And  now  the  worst  is  yet  to  come." 
Many  of  you  will  remember  a  book  the  invalid  published  some  years  ago  containing 
selections  from  his  newspaper  writings.  The  artist  seeks  fame,  not  fortune.  You  are 
more  intent  on  fortune  than  on  fame.  So  you  made  a  generous  division  of  your  for 
tune  to  enable  your  friend  to  win  fame.  He  was  in  San  Francisco  and  went  into  the 
bank  of  I.  W.  Hellman  to  solicit  a  subscription  to  his  work.  Upon  learning  the  price 
of  it  the  banker  smiled  and  said:  "You  and  I  have  known  each  other  a  long  time.  I 
do  not  flatter  you  in  saying  that  in  my  opinion  your  writings  have  attracted  more 
population,  capital,  enterprise  and  industry  to  Southern  California  than  those  of  any 
other  newspaper  writer  who  has  ever  penned  a  word  in  praise  of  that  section.  You 
have  lived  op  a  salary  and  remained  poor  while  you  have  made  many  rich.  Now  the 
Bank  of  Nevada  will  subscribe  the  price  of  twenty  of  your  books,  the  Union  Trust 
Company  will  do  the  same,  and  the  Farmers'  and  Merchants'  Bank  of  Los  Angeles 
as  many  more,  and  T  will  give  for  the  three  lots,  $150." 

The  invalid  has  had  many  gratifications  in  his  long  life,  but  none  that  surpasses 
the  way  in  which  the  business  men  of  this  city  gratify  his  ambition  to  win  fame  by 
contributing  so  liberally  of  their  fortunes.  It's  probably  a  foolish  feeling,  but  to  this 
day  when  somebody  stops  the  invalid  on  the  street  and  tells  him  for  the  tenth  or  the 
twentieth  time  that  he  is  still  enjoying  reading  his  book,  he  feels  as  if  he  had  won  a 
little  measure  of  fame,  and  his  heart  swells  very  full  with  a  very  foolish  pride. 

Now  he  is  told  that  the  lyric  which  he  has  just  read  is  not  bad,  and  he  is  still 
athirst  for  fame,  and  asks  you  to  again  share  your  fortune  writh  him  in  publishing  this 
effusion  in  verse.  He  proposes  to  illustrate  it  superbly,  and  all  he  wants  is  to  get  it 
distributed  widely  to  assuage  his  own  thirst  for  fame  and  to  attract  more  people  to 
the  State  for  their  own  sakes  and  for  yours.  There  are  many  invalids  in  the  United 
States  who  might  be  benefited  by  the  California  climate  as  your  speaker  has  been,  and 
there  are  invalids  being  born  and  made  every  day  in  the  year.  This  little  lyric  of  the 
soul  will  be  put  upon  the  market  at  an  exceedingly  small  price,  and  if  distributed 
broadcast  will  gratify  the  invalid's  thirst  for  fame  and  help  you  to  swell  your  fortunes. 
Still  my  thirst  for  fame  is  very  great,  and  I  have  no  misgiving  as  to  what  your  re 
sponse  will  be  to  assuage  it. 

[The  first  thousand  sold  before  they  were  out  of  the  printer's  hands, 
and   now   this   second   edition   is    selling   as    rapidly   for   holiday   presents.] 


274415 


. 


PRINTING    AND    BINDING    BY 
TIMES-MIRROR    PRINTING    ft    BINDING    HOUSE 

ENGRAVINGS    BY 
AMERICAN    ENGRAVING    ft    ELECTROTYPING    CO. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
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